


contain the urge to run away

by ceserabeau



Series: sanctuary [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, F/M, Gen, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 16:09:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1434571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceserabeau/pseuds/ceserabeau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So,” Stiles says, when they’re curled together in bed, “I need a date for Scott’s wedding.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	contain the urge to run away

**Author's Note:**

> Follow on from [sanctuary where i stand](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1346563), probably helps if you read it first.
> 
> Title from _Breezeblocks_ by Alt-J

It’s August when Stiles gets the call.

“Kira’s gone into labour,” Scott says, sounding somewhere between ecstatic and terrified.

“Then why are you calling me?” Stiles shouts at him. “You need to get to the hospital!”

“Because I want you to be here,” Scott says earnestly over the sound of his car revving. “You’re coming right?”

Stiles laughs. “Of course,” he says with a grin; “Like you could keep me away.”

He drives like a maniac and makes it to Santa Barbara in time to see Kira being wheeled out of a delivery room, a bundle of blankets in her arms, and Scott trailing behind her. When he sees Stiles he hugs him so tight Stiles feels like his lung are being crushed.

“Ease up, buddy,” he murmurs in Scott’s ear. “How’d it go?”

Scott pulls back and Stiles can see that his face is wet with tears, but he’s wearing the biggest smile Stiles has ever seen. “I’m a dad,” he sobs out, and Stiles can hear some nurses cooing as they pass.

“Boy or girl?” Stiles asks him, but Scott is already off again, running down the hall.

Stiles follows like he’s always done and finds Scott with Kira and their baby who, as it turns out, is a girl. She’s beautiful and healthy, but whether she’s wolf or fox is yet to be seen. They name her Tsukiko, which Kira tells him means ‘child of the moon’.

“She’s amazing,” Stiles says, cradling her gently in his arms.

“Will you be her godfather?” Scott asks from where he’s wrapped around Kira on the hospital bed.

Stiles looks at him in amazement. “Really?”

“We wouldn’t have anyone else,” Kira says with a smile.

Stiles feels like his breath has been punched out of him suddenly. He wants to argue, to tell them all the reasons why it’s a bad idea – he lives five hours away, he’s not part of their pack any more, he’s still a huge fucking mess even on a good day – until he looks down at little Kiko who wriggles in his arms, giggling up at him, and all his protests die in his throat.

“Of course,” he says, “Forever.”

Scott and Kira beam at him, practically glowing, and Stiles lets it wash over him, the feeling of love and happiness and family. The only thing he could wish for is that Derek could be there with him to feel it too.

-

Scott asks Kira to marry him a month later, and once Stiles agrees to be best man Scott immediately tries to rope him into helping plan the wedding.

“I don’t know anything about complimentary colours,” he complains, showing Stiles a colour wheel over Skype. “And Kira’s mom keeps going on about tradition and etiquette, and she wants Kira to wear a kimono instead of a dress. It’s a nightmare.”

“You’re on your own with that one,” Stiles tells him. Kira’s mom is the most terrifying woman Stiles has ever met, and not just because she has a samurai sword.

“I think I’m going to get my mom to deal with her,” Scott says with a sigh and Stiles agrees: if anyone can handle Mrs Yukimura it’ll be Melissa McCall.

Scott starts ranting about flower arrangements and seating plans, and Stiles tunes him out until Scott casually asks, “You’re bringing Derek, right?”

Stiles scratches at his head, suddenly nervous. “It wouldn’t be weird?”

“It wouldn’t be weird,” Scott tells him. “Besides, it’s time everyone met him.”

Stiles nods slowly. He wants to introduce Derek to his family; it's definitely past time. The only problem is how to convince Derek.

-

“So,” Stiles says, when they’re curled together in bed, “I need a date for Scott’s wedding.”

Derek’s hand freezes in its steady sweeps across the curve of Stiles’ ribs, and Stiles holds his breath for one count, two, three, until Derek huffs out a breath against the top of his head.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he says and Stiles frowns at what little of Derek he can see: the meat of his shoulder, the underside of his chin.

“Please?” he tries. “They really want to meet you.”

Derek’s fingers press down slightly, and Stiles knows he’s watching the way the skin goes white under his fingertips, the way the colour rushes back in when he pulls them away. The poking is a request for Stiles to stop asking, to stop pushing, but he really can’t help himself.

“Scott and Kira both asked for you to come,” he says, leaning up onto his elbows so he can stare Derek down if he keeps protesting.

Derek indeed does protest: “You don’t need me there,” he says, face twisted in something that might be a frown.

Stiles scowls at him. “But I _want_ you there,” he says vehemently.

Derek rolls his eyes and tries to get away, but Stiles grabs his face and pulls him back so they’re pressed together, face to face, eye to eye, so that Derek can’t get away.

It makes him heave a sigh. Derek knows why Stiles is pushing it: he already knows all of Derek’s family and Derek has yet to meet any of his. But the idea of leaving the safety of Beacon Hills makes his chest tighten with sudden panic. Derek grew up in town, went to college here, has barely been outside the familiar confines of the Hale territory. Everything beyond the borders of their land is like the great unknown and whenever Derek thinks about crossing them he feels his heart fluttering wildly.

On top of that he’d be going into another pack’s territory without any of his own to back him up, and that fills him with dread. No matter how well Stiles might know them, they’re still strangers and he’ll still be a rogue wolf on their lands, vulnerable and completely at their mercy.

But then he looks at Stiles’ face, at the love and hope and excitement right there on his features, and his resolve begins to crumble.

“Okay,” he says finally, “I’ll come with you.”

Stiles’ answering smile lights up the room, and Derek sends out a prayer to whoever’s listening that he can keep it on his face as Stiles reels him in for a kiss.

-

Derek is quiet the entire drive to Santa Barbara. Normally he sings along to the radio or taps on the steering wheel in time with the beat, but today he’s silent and still. Stiles is twice as loud to make up for it.

They stop in Santa Maria for burgers and Stiles deliberately eats as badly as he can, desperate for a reaction, but Derek doesn’t say a word. Eventually Stiles just sighs and reaches out across the table, sliding his hand into Derek’s.

“We don’t have to do this,” he says softly.

“I want to,” Derek says, but the resigned look on his face says otherwise.

“Seriously,” Stiles says, squeezing Derek’s hand gently, “We’re only an hour or so from home. We can go back and I’ll just drive down in the morning.”

Derek shakes his head. “You’ll miss the rehearsal,” he says, as if that matters.

Stiles is ready to call him on his bullshit, but the set of Derek’s shoulders is tight, so he keeps his mouth shut. When they get back in the car, a tense silence settles over them, interrupted only by the roar of the engine and the rush of wind through Stiles’ open window.

“Are you sure you want to go?” Stiles asks after half an hour of quiet, and Derek finally snaps.

“It’s your best friend’s wedding, Stiles,” he growls at him, fingers white-knuckled around the wheel. “If you ask me one more time I’m going to _rip your tongue out_.”

He doesn’t answer the question though and Stiles wants to bang his head against the window. The two of them have been together long enough now that Stiles can read Derek easily, could do it in his sleep, and the thin line of his mouth, the furrow between his brows, the tension in his muscles are all dead giveaways that Derek does not want to be there.

The closer they get to Santa Barbara the more stressed Derek looks. When they pull into the parking lot of their hotel, Derek shoots out of his seat faster than lightning, grabbing their bags and disappearing inside before Stiles has even got out of the car.

By the time he gets inside Derek has got their room key and is waiting impatiently by the elevators, tapping his foot against the carpet. His face is still twisted in the deep frown from before, and as Stiles lets Derek hustle him into the elevator he can feel a vague unhappiness radiating from Derek. Stiles watches their reflections in the mirror and eventually bumps Derek’s hip gently with his own.

“You going to tell me what’s wrong?” he asks softly.

Derek glares at him in the mirror, but he turns away before Stiles can fully examine the look in his eyes. “Stop asking me that,” he grumbles and practically runs for their room when the doors slide open with a ding.

It doesn’t take long for them to get ready for the rehearsal dinner and Stiles judges there’s enough time for a quickie, especially when Derek steps out of the bathroom in his suit. From the way Derek’s eyes darken slightly he’s probably thinking the same thing, but he keeps himself distant, puts just enough space between the two of them for Stiles to know that something is most definitely up. When he tries to reach out Derek just backs away, and they spend the rest of their time sitting awkwardly, watching the hands of the clock ticking slowly.

At seven Derek lets Stiles hustle him into the elevator and they stand on opposite sides, riding it down in silence. Derek won’t meet his eyes and Stiles feels something like panic fluttering in his chest because he can’t figure out what’s wrong, can’t figure out how to make it right.

The dinner’s in the hotel restaurant and when they finally make it downstairs there’s a handful of Scott’s family milling around. Stiles remembers some of them from birthday parties but he avoids them in favour of seeking out his actual friends, Derek trailing after his awkwardly as he hunts them down.

He finds most of them in one of the side rooms, the guys all crowded round one of the tables adding wolfsbane to their beers.

“So this is where the party’s at,” Stiles calls out as he and Derek slip through the door, and five heads turn in unison to him.

“You came!” Scott shouts and barrels into Stiles, nearly knocking him off his feet. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

Stiles laughs and pulls back enough to slung his arm around Scott’s shoulders. “Of course,” he says, before turning to Derek. “You remember Scott, right?”

“Glad you could make it,” Scott says with a smile and reaches out to shake Derek’s hand.

Derek takes it slowly. “Congratulations,” he says, and Stiles feels a rush of pleasure at how calm Derek is acting, especially considering the last time the two of them met face to face.

Scott grins at him. “Thanks,” he says, untangling himself from Stiles’ grip. “Hey, this is my pack –” and the group standing silently behind him rush forward to envelop Stiles in a series of familiar hugs.

Stiles introduces them to Derek one by one. “This is Isaac and Boyd and Jackson,” he says, and they all shake hands. “And this is Erica and Lydia.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Lydia purrs while Erica winks at him.

“Nice to meet you to,” Derek stammers out, glancing at Stiles for support. Stiles feels a twinge of sympathy at the way Derek’s face is awash with surprise and confusion and maybe a little bit of fear; it’s how he always feels around the two of them even when they’re not looking in his direction.

“Play nice,” he tells them, and the pair just laugh in sync before slinking back to the couch.

Next to him Derek looks like he’s moment away from shitting his pants, so Stiles nudges him with his hip gently and is rewarded with the first smile he’s seen from Derek all day.

At the far end of the door, a door clicks opens and Kira and Allison appear, Kiko cradled against Allison’s chest. They both grin when they catch sight of him, and Kira immediately throws her arms around him, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek.

“I’m so glad you came,” she says to him, before Derek catches her eye. “You must be Derek,” she says triumphantly and kisses his cheek too; “I’m Kira. I’m so happy I’m finally getting to meet you!”

“You too,” Derek murmurs softly, ducking his head shyly. Stiles can’t help smiling at the blush creeping up his neck.

Kira takes Kiko from Allison and she steps forward to hug Stiles too. When they separate she too holds her hand out for Derek to shake.

“I’m Allison,” she says genially, but Derek goes suddenly rigid beside Stiles, growling low in his throat as his whole body tenses like he’s about to throw himself at Allison.

Stiles’ stomach drops suddenly. Oh Christ, he forgot, he completely forgot – Allison is an Argent, _Kate_ was an Argent, oh shit, _fuck_ , this can’t possibly end well.

“Derek,” he murmurs, turning to put himself directly in Derek’s path in case he tries anything, “I need you to calm down.”

Derek’s face is twisted with anger and his knuckles are white, blood seeping through his fingers where he’s clenching his fists around his claws. Stiles touches his face gently, and Derek is vibrating under his hands, fighting to hold himself still. Behind him, Stiles can feel Allison sliding backwards and the pack shifting to put her at their centre, just in case.

“Come on, Derek,” Stiles says softly, “Focus on me.”

Derek doesn’t look at him, still glaring at Allison with those brilliant blue eyes of his. He’s gone, lost somewhere in his mind, in the depths of his anger and fear and shock. Stiles focuses for a second and the ash materialises in his hand. When he throws it, it settles into a long line, dividing the room in two with Stiles and Derek on one side, and the pack of the other.

“Stiles,” Scott says, low and anxious.

Derek growls, rumbling up from his chest. Stiles recognises the signs: he’s getting ready to attack, so Stiles puts a hand on his chest and shoves, hard. Derek stumbles back, skidding slightly, but he’s back up against the barrier in seconds, eyes flaring.

“Everybody out,” Stiles says, putting as much authority into his voice as he can, “Right now.”

The pack slip out the far end of the room; Derek jumps after them, but bounces off the barrier with a flash. He goes for the door then, but Stiles grabs him and reels him in.

Derek struggles in his grip, but Stiles just reaches out with his Spark, wraps it around Derek like a blanket. He uses his magic to slip to brush along tense nerves, sliding down tight muscles, pushing and pulling until Derek slowly begins to submit. His body softens, tension bleeding out, until he slumps into Stiles suddenly like his strings have been cut.

“There you go,” Stiles whispers to him, nosing at Derek’s temple. “Knew you’d come back to me.”

Derek rubs his face into Stiles’ neck, nose brushing along his skin. “I hate it when you do that,” he murmurs quietly.

“I know, I know.” Stiles tilts Derek’s head up and presses soft kisses across his skin; his ears, his cheek, his eyelids. “But you can’t be going all rogue on me, Sourwolf.”

Derek sighs into his skin and Stiles can feel the anxiety coming off him in waves. “She’s an Argent,” he growls.

Stiles cringes a little. “Yeah – but she’s not like Kate. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I completely forgot. It hasn’t been a problem with the pack for a long time and I didn’t – I didn’t even think.”

Derek shakes his head and pulls back a little, sliding out of Stiles’ grip. “I don’t think I can do this,” he says sadly.

“It’s okay,” Stiles says, smoothing his hands down Derek’s arms. “You just need to take a breathe and refocus –”

“No,” and Derek’s voice is shaking. “I can’t be here, with this pack, with an Argent. It’s not – it’s not right.”

Stiles frowns at him. “What does that mean?”

“I have to go home,” Derek says, not meeting his eyes.

Stiles heart clenches in his chest. “What?” he says, surprised even though he knows he shouldn’t be. “Are you serious?”

Derek jerks away from him and the look on his face is exasperated and angry. “Her family tried to kill mine, Stiles,” he snarls, “I can’t stay here.”

Stiles rubs a hand over his face. “ _Fuck_ , I know, okay?” He sighs, trying to rein in the sudden anger he feels because Derek doesn’t deserve that, not right now. “You can take the car; I’ll get a train or something when the wedding’s over.”

Derek looks like he wants to argue but Stiles just puts a heavy hand on his arm and steers him out of the room. The walk out is silent and painful, both of them barely touching and avoiding each other’s eyes. They pause in the lobby, people moving around them like fish in a river, and Stiles is reminded of a movie, but he’s really not sure how this movie is going to end.

“I need to get my bag,” Derek says, looking anywhere but at Stiles.

“No,” Stiles tells him, and is surprised to find his voice is sullen and flat. “You should just go.”

The look Derek gives him is heartbreaking, and Stiles wants more than anything to wrap him in a hug, but he can’t quite bring himself to bridge the gulf that’s steadily growing between them.

“I’ll see you in a couple of days,” he says quietly.

Derek nods tensely, the muscle in his jaw twitching viciously, and Stiles thinks he’s going to do something like hug him or kiss him, but in the end Derek just turns and walks away.

Stiles watches him go and the moment Derek vanishes from his sight he slumps against the wall, all his breath knocked out of him. He feels like he’s on the verge of tears, but then he sees Lydia striding down the corridor towards him, a vision in green silk. She comes to a sudden stop next to him, and grabs him by the arm.

“What the hell happened?” she demands, her grip like a vice.

“Derek’s going home,” Stiles tells her and pulls out of her grip. “Have they started dinner yet? I’m starving.”

Lydia frowns at him, but Stiles forces himself to smile at her, hoping that it looks genuine. If the look on Lydia’s face is anything to go by, he doesn’t do a very good job.

-

Derek barely makes it thirty minutes out of town before he has to pull over.

The clock on the dash reads eight o’clock and Derek thinks hysterically that he’s only been in Santa Barbara for three hours, before he has to pull into the parking lot of a Walmart so he doesn’t swerve off the road because his hands are shaking so badly.

Outside it’s pitch black, and Derek peels his hands carefully off the steering wheel. He stares at them a moment, watching the blood rush back into them, before he presses them to his eyes and tries to remember how to keep breathing.

He and Stiles rarely fight, not like they used to, and even now it’s never over little things. But, Derek supposes, this is hardly little. His partner, his mate, is friends with an Argent and how the fuck did that happen?

Panic rises in his chest, threatening to consume him, so Derek bites down hard on his lip the way he’s seen Stiles do when he’s close to having a panic attack until he can taste copper on his tongue. It chases the panic away, but his heart is still going a mile a minute and when he takes his hands away from his eyes, he finds his vision is blurry and his face is wet with tears.

He sits there for a long time, trying to slow his heart and with it his mind so that he can sort through what just happened.

He screwed up by leaving, he knows that, and he’s not sure how easy it will be for Stiles to forgive him. This is Stiles’ family, his pack in everything but name, and Derek has just slapped him in the face by doing that he just did. Not to mention breaking every single rule of pack etiquette he’s ever been taught – god, Derek thinks suddenly, he’s such a fucking idiot.

Sometimes he forgets that Stiles hasn’t always been in Beacon Hills, that he had a life before, a life where not everything went well for him. There was a lot of grief and pain, a lot of trouble and strife. And these people, Stiles’ _family_ , they were there for him through it all. They pulled him back from the edge, gave him a new purpose in life, and Derek can’t begrudge Stiles for wanting to share them with him, to share Derek with them.

But the sight of Stiles with his arms around an _Argent_ of all people, knowing exactly what one of them did to his pack – Derek’s torn between throwing up and tearing something to shreds.

It feels a lot like betrayal, like the time Kate smiled at him and said _guess what I did today_ , and his insides burn with anger. He wants to shout and scream and rage at Stiles, ask _what the hell were you thinking_ and _how could you do this to me_ and _why why why_.

But the look on Stiles’ face, the fear and longing and sadness, makes him want to turn the car around and drive back to him. Makes him want to get on his knees and beg forgiveness, hold him and kiss him and never let go.

-

The wedding is beyond beautiful. In the bright California sun, Kira is radiant. She’s bucked tradition by going for a dress and not a kimono, but even Mrs Yukimura can’t bring herself to look mad when she sees her daughter coming down the aisle.

Scott bursts into tears when he sees her and Stiles sneakily hands him a tissue. Scott nods gratefully at him and Stiles smiles back, his grin so big it makes his cheeks hurt. If his own eyes are a little misty, no one has to know.

After their vows and _you may kiss the bride_ and Lydia catching the bouquet, it’s time for food. Stiles makes a speech that starts with “When Scott told me he had fallen in love again,” and goes through “This one time we went looking for a body in the woods,” and ends with “So if you could all raise a glass for the bride and groom;” and when he looks around everyone he knows has a huge grin on their face and tears in their eyes.

After dinner there’s dancing and drinking and more speeches and then more drinking. Scott and Kira’s first dance begins as something beautiful before it devolves into some sort of Macarena rip-off that makes everyone cheer. Stiles takes his turn with Kira and Lydia and Allison and Erica and Melissa, before he and Scott pull out their best moves and take control of the floor.

It’s the most fun Stiles has had in a long time, and the familiar feel of his family surrounding him makes contentment settle under his skin.

They keep going long after the sun sets. Eventually Stiles has to sit down, feet aching and head spinning. Kira flops into the chair next to him and Stiles wraps a gentle arm around her shoulders. When he presses his face into her hair, all he can smell are the cherry blossoms woven into her bun.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, and Kira laughs.

“Thank _you_ ,” she says and pulls herself upright so she can look him in the eye. “I know today was hard for you, without Derek –” and she grabs Stiles’ face before he can look away from her, “And you were amazing as always.”

They grin at each other for a moment before Stiles has to stifle a yawn. Kira cackles at him, makes fun of him for going to bed earlier than her newborn daughter, but eventually she lets him go with a kiss to his cheek and watches him stumble away with a fond expression on her face.

Stiles tries not to act like he’s a drunken mess on the way to his room, but he doesn’t do a very good job if Erica’s catcalls when she sees him stumbling into the elevator are anything to go by. It takes him three tries to get his card into the slot; once he's inside he flops down onto the couch and straight on top of a dozing Derek.

“ _What the fuck_?” Stiles shouts, as Derek sits bolt upright and tosses Stiles to the floor. “What are you doing here?”

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to –” Derek trails off, inhaling deeply. “You’re drunk,” he says warily and Stiles nods up at him.

“Yeah,” he says, “Yep, it’s a wedding, there was drinking. Lots of it. You really missed out.”

Derek’s face twists in a grimace and it’s then that Stiles remembers why Derek wasn’t there with him, and his buzz immediately fades a little. He finds enough coordination to get himself to his feet and they stand there in the dark, watching each other.

“You came back,” Stiles says eventually and Derek’s eyes flick away.

“Let me get you some water,” he says and makes a break for the bathroom, but Stiles grabs at him and Derek stays put.

“How long have you been here?” he asks.

Derek cringes a little. “A couple of hours,” he says, eyes on Stiles’ hand where it rests on his sleeve. “I wanted to talk to you but I couldn’t be down there.”

Stiles nods in understanding. “I’m glad you came back,” he says, sliding his hand down to entwine it with Derek’s. “I missed you today.”

The look on Derek’s face is heartbreaking. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles; “I shouldn’t have left. I know how much you wanted me to be here. I didn’t mean to ruin this for you –”

Stiles claps a hand over his mouth. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he says softly. “If anything _I_ ruined it! All I could think about all day was how sad and angry you were, and I didn’t know if you were okay.”

Derek’s mouth moves behind his hand, so Stiles takes it away slowly. “I’m not okay,” Derek is saying and his voice is tinged with anger; “It was too much at once, and she’s an Argent. I mean, for fuck’s sake Stiles, how could you just forget something like that?”

Stiles knocks their foreheads together with an, “I know, _I know_ ,” and Derek huffs out an irritated breath against his cheek. “I’m such an idiot. I know you probably hate me a lot right now and saying sorry isn’t going to make up for it, but I am sorry, I am so _so_ sorry.”

Stiles feels more than sees Derek smile against his skin. “I don’t hate you,” he mumbles, mouthing at Stiles’ cheekbone; “I could never hate you.”

It takes Stiles a moment to realise that he’s crying a little and Derek is wiping the tears from his skin with his lips. “You’re too good for me,” he says, and when his voice cracks on a sob, Derek reels him in without question.

They stand like that for a long time, pressed against each other in the dark of their room. Stiles’ tears run out and when he pulls back there’s a wet patch on Derek’s jacket in the shape of his face. He wants to laugh at it, but when he thinks of why it’s there, it trails off into little more than a hiccup.

“Are we okay?” he asks, tilting his head up towards Derek.

“I don’t know,” Derek says in return, but he presses his lips to Stiles’ all the same.

There’s nothing in it but just a gentle touching of mouths, a familiar comfort that Stiles clings to as the room spins slightly around them. When they separate, Derek carefully helps Stiles out of his suit, folding everything neatly on the chair, before he tucks him into bed.

Stiles is nearly asleep by the time his head touches the pillow, but he has enough presence of mind to reach out to grab Derek’s arm. “Stay,” he whispers in the dark, and watches with satisfaction as Derek undresses and crawls in beside him.

“Go to sleep,” Derek tells him, but Stiles doesn’t let his eyes slip closed again until Derek is tucked firmly up against his back. The sound of his steady breathing follows him down into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I want to write so much more of this, you don’t even know, but I have half a dozen things on the go at the moment (Terminator AU, Zombies, the rest of my college ‘verse) and I need to finish some before I come back around to this.


End file.
